


Seeing Red

by econony



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Could be seen as the prequel to Duel Links I guess???, DIY/Zine culture, I Don't Know How Business Proposals Really Work But I Tried: The Novel, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Otogi lives for the #drama, Rekindled Romance, Seto Is Bad At Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/econony/pseuds/econony
Summary: Written for the 2018 Yu-Gi-Oh! "It's Time to G-G-G-Gift!" Mini Exchange!Prompt:Kaiba becomes aware of a new trend in the Duelling Underground: Speed Duelling. Eager to cash in and regulate the new genre, he has to track down the guy who owns the rulebook patent - the unknown Speed Champion, known only as Red.Jou, needing something with more adrenaline than standard duelling, accidentally invented a new duelling genre, and remains its secret champion by night. By day, he’s STILL trying to make it in the professional Duel Monsters circuits.





	Seeing Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OperaGoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/gifts).



> Hi, this was really fun to write despite being mega busy, stressed, and overwhelmed by my final year of undergrad!
> 
> This was written for the 2018 Yu-Gi-Oh! Mini Exchange, and I was assigned a very cuuute prompt from OperaGoose. I deviated a little from the prompt maybe?? But I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! And I hope everyone else does as well. :~)
> 
> Side note, I'm not sure if Youth Work/youth outreach programmes exist in Japan but they do in England, so I'm sorry for extending my creative license haha!

"How's it going?" Mokuba asks him one balmy night in April, way past the kid's bedtime, or maybe way before he's humanly meant to be up.

"Fine, and you need to be sleeping right now," Seto replies cooly, balancing his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he types. Mokuba laughs gently, and Seto can hear his brother shuffling around against the receiver.

"I know, I'm just revising for this exam," Mokuba says. Seto mostly believes him. He actually believes that Mokuba's been playing games all night and that he's just now getting to opening his textbooks. "What's this new acquisition you messaged me about?"

"Well," Seto starts, furrowing his brow. "It's an acquisition in progress. Nearly an acquisition. Have you heard of 'Speed Duelling'?"

"Yeah, holy shit. It's all anyone's ever doing here." Mokuba is at the most prestigious university in the country, and it's almost hilarious to Seto that all these studious young nerds are occupying their precious few moments of free time with what is essentially a DIY-modded version of Duel Monsters. "Are you going to buy the rights?"

"I would, if I could find this fucking person," Seto sighs. "My sources have only found the name of the creator – _Red_ – but they're... gratuitously elusive." He's exhausted; he needs to be working on Q3 summaries and preparing spreadsheets for FY19, but his fine-tuned business acumen has its radar pointed on this Speed Duelling thing. "I don't think this is just some trend. This is growing, fast. I'm thinking mobile gaming. Maybe a Freemium."

"Sounds really good," Mokuba says, sounding genuinely interested. "Want me to do some research on it too?"

"No, Mokuba, what I really want is for you to focus on your–"

"Yes, I know, my _studies_ , I got it," Mokuba says, a smile in his voice. "Just sucks I'm preoccupied with all this boring shit while you're doing all the hard work!"

"Mokuba," Seto sternly reprimands, "you know I would have given a lot to go to university. This is important for you." The unspoken is: _you don't want to end up like me. A measly high school graduate who's already on the Forbes 30 Under 30, but has experienced burnout upwards of 100 times. Gozaburo's slave dog running the company because fucking **somebody** had to do it._

"I know," Mokuba replies, his tone softer. "I do wanna be here. But I also wanna help! So please let me know if I can do anything, okay?"

"Thank you."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"I'm going to in a moment," Seto says, feeling a little embarrassed that his younger brother has to constantly check on his eating habits. It makes him feel slightly as though he's failing at parenting.

"Bro, seriously!" Mokuba whines. "Go eat, now!"

After they exchange goodbyes and end the call, Seto feels obligated to eat, so he does. He descends in the lift and makes himself a piss-poor, dry sandwich in the empty kitchen. As he eats in the dark, illuminated only by the empty fridge, he leans against the counter, lost in thought. 

"Kaiba-sama?"

Seto snaps from his trance, placing the sandwich down on the counter – he never bothers with plates if he's eating alone. It's something he'd picked up from other kids at the orphanage: it made less work for the kids on dish duty. "Did we find anything, Isono?" he asks, brushing crumbs from his fingertips.

"No. I'm sorry, sir," Isono replies. "Whoever this person is, they're taking care to protect their identity."

"Don't worry," Seto reassures him. "We'll keep trying."

*

One draw phase, one main phase, one battle phase, and that was it.

Truthfully, it had stemmed from Jounouchi's inability to focus on long, grueling, hours-long duels. When he'd dated Mai, she said she thought he probably had ADHD, but who was she, his therapist? He preferred short, successive duels with more people – it made for better tournaments, anyway.

Slow burn was never Jou's jam. So when he was in high school, he'd come up with Speed Duelling, or at least a very early version of it. He'd only play it with Honda, or Yuugi if he had any free time. It just worked better for his attention span, really. Honda loved it, so much so that he'd prefer to Speed Duel Jou over traditional duelling. So much so that he ended up teaching Otogi how to play, who then taught others, who ended up spreading it like wildfire to all his gaming friends. It started gaining traction on playgrounds, where kids could grasp the game's concept better, but soon became popular with university students and "the youth", according to a news article Jou'd read about its burgeoning trendiness. Whatever "the youth" means.

When it entered the collective consciousness of other Duel Monsters players, he didn't think to stop playing, but once it got popular enough he felt he _needed_ to stop. He began to worry people would recognize him – Domino's a city, but it's small enough for people to know you from friends of friends. Besides, it thrilled him more to go out as the legendary champion from "back in the day" rather than to have Twitter blow up with his face attached to the game.

He's putting the finishing touches on this month's zine now. He puts out a monthly zine under his duelling pseudonym, "Red", all about Speed Duelling and its players. The fact that Speed Duelling made Duel Monsters a much more democratic and accessible game to people only led into the natural development of it joining the DIY scene. Ryou has his own zine distro, and Jou trusts him to keep his identity safe when he releases each zine out into the ether. Domino may be small, but its DIY cultural-scape is vast, tight-knit, and built on community support.

Jou always leaves his proxy email at the end of the zine so that players from around Japan can submit stories, tips, techniques, and other game-specific things to him. He then selects a handful and features them in the zine. It's more of an interest guide than anything else, but people scramble to get their hands on it once Ryou posts it on the distro's online store. Last month, the demand was overwhelming: they'd sold out in a matter of hours.

It's tough, balancing a full-time job and this underground thing nobody knows belongs to him. By day he's a youth outreach worker in the city centre, and by evening he's saddle-binding photocopies of his zine. He'd love to make the transition to Risograph, but they're so expensive nowadays. Back when he was in school, all the public schools had a cheap-o Riso, but now it's chic with hipster graphic designers in the West and the prices are jacked to fuck.

Having a side project to his day job is stressful, but he prefers it. He needs several tasks to occupy his mind simultaneously; that way, when he gets into a roadblock on one, he can quickly shift gears and focus on one of the others. He also would be lying if he said he didn't like the chase: he's been asked to be interviewed by national news, by Vice Japan, all sorts. He's had to sift through PR and Journalist requests in his email and mark them all as spam. 

But he loves that he's the guy nobody would suspect. It's what made him such a lethal weapon when he was in Hirutani's gang in middle school: guys from other schools never thought such a scrawny little kid with _gaijin_ hair could fuck them up. Jounouchi Katsuya, a Domino city youth worker, the one who brings a homemade lunchbox every day, couldn't ever possibly be remotely connected to Red, the elusory godparent and fabled champion of Speed Duelling.

*

Just as Seto is about to give in to his burning, exhausted eyes and go to sleep, he receives a message from Mokuba. (Does that kid ever sleep?)

 **Kaiba Mokuba (02:27):** bro i found something for your speed duelling thing  
**Kaiba Mokuba (02:27):** 'red' puts out a speed duelling zine and his email's always inside  
**Kaiba Mokuba (02:28):** red@freemailserve.jp yw  
**Kaiba Mokuba (02:28):** i'll mail u some of the zines tomorrow. theyre super lo-fi but fuck theyre popular  
**Kaiba Mokuba (02:28):** apparently red was like some big speed duelling champion a few yrs ago  
**Kaiba Seto (02:29):** Thank you. Much appreciated. Bedtime please.  
**Kaiba Mokuba (02:29):** OKAY lmao, love u too

Satisfied and running off the high of this new, vital information, Seto cracks his neck and writes this 'Red' person an email.

`From: sk@kaibacorporation.co.jp`  
`To: red@freemailserve.jp`  
`Date: 19 April 20XX`  
`Subject: Potential collaboration offer`

`Red,`

`I am reaching out to you to open a dialogue about collaborating with you to bring Speed Duelling to an international audience.`

`Speed Duelling has, in a matter of months, become the most-played Duel Monsters modification in Japan. KaibaCorp has noticed this and recognises its potential to have widespread impact on the culture of Duel Monsters players worldwide.`

`As you may know, KaibaCorp has led the forefront of the future of immersive Duel Monsters gameplay, from our holographic VR experiences to our award-winning mobile apps. Our dedication to deeply engaging and cutting-edge gaming technology has been internationally acclaimed. I believe through negotiation and combined effort, Speed Duelling is well-placed to influence Duel Monsters cultural change with KaibaCorp as its support.`

`I would like to pursue next steps with you to induct you and your innovative ideas into KaibaCorp's network of products and systems. Please let me know when it convenes you to meet and discuss.`

`Cordially,`

`Seto Kaiba  
CEO, KaibaCorp GK`

*

At work, Jou gets a push notification from his email. The 'ping' interrupts the kid in his office halfway through his sentence.

"Sorry," Jou says, handing the boy another tissue. "Go ahead." The boy's in a gang, only about thirteen, and looks thoroughly embarrassed to be crying. That's how Jou would have felt, anyway. He's just glad the kid finally broke down and sees him in his office once a week. 

After the kid has dusted himself off, put his machismo back on, and toughed himself out of Jou's office, Jou runs a hand through his hair. He presses his fingertips against his eyelids and sighs. Sometimes, it's hard to separate his own life from the kids he works with. 

He has about five minutes until he's meant to go out on his rounds at the bottom of town, so he checks his email for that stupid notification he'd gotten earlier. That specific 'ping' was his Red email, so it's probably another submission for the zine, or an interview request. 

Except, it's not. Instead, Jou finds an email from Seto Fucking Kaiba Himself.

He reads the email. And then he reads it again. When he's read it a third time, he leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling in disbelief. In the background, the sound of photocopiers, shuffled footsteps, and troubled teenagers drifts from behind his closed door. He reads the email a fourth time. And then, he just laughs out loud in his tiny, stuffy office. 

He thinks of Kaiba, and the fact that the last time he'd seen him in person was the last day of classes in high school. He hadn't even shown up to graduation, the busy bastard, just had his butler pick his diploma up. Jou remembers the stilted conversations, the anger, the resentment, the all-nighters spent driving to remote locations with him in unmarked cars. Jou remembers his hands on Kaiba's hips, the taste of cheap brandy, Kaiba's lips on his, and how much it hurt when Kaiba would look past him in public, when they were sober. 

He reads the email a final time, and taps the reply button. 

"lol no way," he writes in all lowercase, and leaves his office, feeling petty and satisfied.

*

"Kaiba-sama? I have your mail here," Kizuki says with a gentle knock on Seto's office door.

"Thank you," Seto replies, sipping his espresso and elegantly holding his other hand out to receive the stack of envelopes. Just as he'd hoped, Mokuba's packet of zines has arrived, and he takes care to peel the envelope flap back to reveal the thick stack of booklets. At first glance, they're... ostensibly a teenager's poorly-stapled zines, messily thrown together for fun. But as he reads through them, trying to glean any semblance of Red's identity or personality, he realizes that these zines, although half-assedly constructed, are a clever amalgamation, almost a compendium, of a Duel Monsters subculture. The strange part is, Red has absolutely no digital presence, even in this digital age. Instead, there's a clear desire for the analogue that's communicated in his zines, a want for authenticity, while still maintaining a virtual gathering space.

He is midway through issue 17 when his inbox auto-refreshes, and it's by some strange coincidence that he finds a reply from Red. He's so satisfied that he's made contact that he opens the email without reading the preheader preview line. 

_lol no way_ is all that's written. Seto refreshes the page to see if his immaculate servers may have hiccuped and only loaded part of the email, but no. 

What a shitty, sassy, answer! Seto feels himself grinding his teeth, angry that he hasn't succeeded. He angrily flips through the rest of the zines, but it only fuels him further to find this person and make him draw up a business deal. He's dealt with constipated investors and stodgy business partners, but none have made him as furious as the three words this snotty brat has replied with. 

The only thing he can think to do is call Mokuba. "Hey, did you get the zines?" Mokuba asks him, instead of saying hello. They never actually say hello or goodbye when they speak on the phone – Seto finds it an unnecessary formality now that Caller ID exists. 

"Yes. Thank you." He's trying not to let his anger show through his voice, but he's failing miserably. 

"I take it Red doesn't want anything to do with KaibaCorp."

"Yes," Seto replies tersely, after a brief, ashamed pause.

"I was gonna go to a Speed Duelling tournament tomorrow. What are you doing from about 3 o'clock? Maybe we can crowdsource some info there," Mokuba suggests. 

That's not a half bad idea, and he hasn't got any meetings on, so they plan to arrive together after a late lunch at the estate. It's held at Domino's only convention centre, and it's stuffy and horrible, filled with mostly sweaty gamers and kids. People do their usual oohing, ahhing, and picture-taking as he and Mokuba arrive – Mokuba explains to him that attendees had been speculating online whether Seto would ever show up to a Speed Duelling tournament. 

"Oh shit! Hey – Kaiba!" he hears from behind him, and without even turning around, he knows whose voice is calling his name. He groans, and wishes he hadn't eaten that tabbouleh Mokuba had ordered from the kitchen; it's coming up mealy and horrible in his throat at the idea of a conversation with this prick. 

"Hello, Otogi," he sighs brusquely, turning to face the smug bastard. "How are you holding up these days? I know your company's been slipping in the stocks lately." Seto is horrible at being nice, but he relishes in being extra snotty to Otogi. Mokuba tries to contain his laughter. 

"Ha ha, loser," Otogi smirks, "we've a freemium game coming out soon. You'll see."

"Good luck with that."

"Still the same nasty grouch you always were, huh bud?" Otogi says, rolling his eyes. "What brings you down from your iron castle into the valley of the proletariat?"

"We're just scoping out the scene here," Mokuba replies for him, playing his usual good cop role and smoothing out the social interaction for him. "Hey, what do you happen to know about the guy who started Speed Duelling? Red?"

Otogi laughs. "Well, he's a friend of a friend, I'll tell you that much. Why, what do you _really_ want to know, Kaiba brothers?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't get shitty, Otogi," Seto says, in nearly a snarl. 

"Hey, hey. We just want to know more information on him. He's pretty hard to find," Mokuba explains.

Otogi smirks again, crossing his arms. God, Seto notices he's still wearing that stupid eyeliner from high school. Hasn't he grown up yet? Seto's 25, but was the youngest in his class. Otogi must be at least 27. "I won't blow his whole cover, but I will tell you where he works. He's a youth support worker with a mental health charity in town. You know, he'll be on shift this Thursday."

It's clear that Otogi loves drama, and loves a chase, and loves being difficult. But this information is all that Seto needs to go off of. He can locate Red in no time now.

"Thank you. Goodbye," Seto says to Otogi, and turns on his heel to walk away. Mokuba, with his social graces, stays behind to schmooze with Otogi.

*

On Thursday, Jou finishes work at 7pm. It's nearly May now, so it's still light when he leaves the building. Jou loves spring, but he loves summer more; he's prone to depression in winter and hates the cold – it reminds him too much of sleeping out on the street when he was a kid, trying to avoid his father.

He leans on the side of the building, digging in his pocket for his cigarettes. It's a nasty habit he's had since he was eleven or twelve, wanting desperately to be part of his gang's cool inner circle. He can't bring himself to quit now that he's so stressed, even if he does tell his kids they shouldn't smoke. It sucks that he feels so hypocritical about it, but whatever. 

He's shaking his lighter to get one last spark out of it for his cigarette when someone approaching casts a long shadow. He looks up, and oh fuck, it's fucking Kaiba. 

"Kaiba?" Jou asks, bemused and slightly horrified that he's found Jou at his place of employment – was it really so obvious that he happened to be Red?

Kaiba seems to snap to attention at his voice, and turns to look at him, stiffly. "Oh. Jounouchi-san," he says, overly formally, as if that rich prick hadn't had his dick in Jounouchi's mouth more than a few times when they were teenagers. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," Jou replies cooly. "I'm more confused as to why _you're_ here." 

"I'm trying to look for someone. In fact, they may work with you." Kaiba seems uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his feet. Jou knows he's never been overly social or prone to conversation.

"Oh really?" Jou says, almost hoping Kaiba's intel hasn't led him quite as far as knowing Jou's the one who told him to fuck off via email.

"Yes," Kaiba says, glancing away, visibly nervous. "Do you happen to know of anyone who makes zines in your office?"

Jou couldn't be more smug if he'd been crowned Stealthmaster of the Year. The cards, no pun intended, are entirely stacked towards him. "Yeah, actually. He just left though. Can I give him a message for you?"

"Um. Yes. Please. Thank you," Kaiba stumbles over his words, and although Jou hates to admit it, he's even more attractive than he was in school. He's aged extremely well – any trace of cheeks he had in school has been filed down to high cheekbones; the bratty glare has been replaced by a cold and calculating stare. "Please let him know I will be waiting at the sake house in Northern Domino tomorrow evening at eight. And that I hope he's given more thought to my email."

"Friday's our busiest night. Everyone will be on shift," Jou says. It's true, too – Friday nights are the most impacted and vital times for finding vulnerable teenagers and kids out drinking, or in gangs, or running away from home. 

"Please let him know Saturday then, same time," Kaiba says, looking caught off guard. 

"Okay," Jou says, struggling with his lighter again, cursing when it sparks but fails to light. "I'll let him know. What, you dating him or something?" Jou is secretly very proud of himself for throwing Kaiba off the scent, while also managing to land a swift and resentful blow about their past trysts.

"No," Kaiba says, quite defensively. "Anyway, it's none of your business. Please pass on the message. Here." Kaiba pulls a sleek-black refillable lighter from his inside jacket pocket and hands it to Jounouchi, looking away again. Jou could swear he's blushing, but doesn't comment. 

"Thanks," he says icily, handing Kaiba his lighter after he's lit his cigarette. 

"Okay."

"Okay," Jou replies, raising his eyebrows. "Is that it?"

"Yes. Thank you," Kaiba says in a stilted manner. He walks away without another word, and Jou watches his long trench coat swish in time with his steps all the way down the road.

*

On Saturday at eight, Seto sits in Domino's only sake house that requires formalwear. He had his nicest Armani pressed for the occasion; it's a deceptively plain suit that's actually high-quality jacquard, intricately woven and dyed with a natural indigo. His cufflinks were Gozaburo's – steely silver inlaid with a tiny sapphire. Now they're his. Now he owns an empire that was once used for evil, and he's created something peaceful, collaborative, and intrinsically competitive, all on his own. It's apt that he wears Gozaburo's cufflinks to this dinner: something that originally belonged to a greedy, abusive tyrant, now used in a completely different light, by the victor of their tête-à-tête.

He sips his glass of water – Red is late by twenty minutes, and he tersely dabs at the corner of his mouth with his napkin, impatient. He hates when people are late, especially to a business proposal meeting, and _most_ especially a meeting that he's set up.

Seto nearly chokes on air when Jounouchi walks through the door of the sake house, in a clearly rented tux. Jounouchi seems arrogant, confident – Seto always despised this about him, the way he could read a room the moment he walked in, or maybe it was jealousy – and makes a beeline towards Seto's table. He sits in the chair opposite. Seto feels his face run beet-red hot.

"Let's talk business, but make it quick," Jounouchi grunts, not making eye contact. He settles easily into his chair, carrying himself with a kind of indifferent aplomb. He's gorgeously aloof and just as hotheaded as in school. He's certainly learned to rein his aggression in; maturity is a good look on him.

"Are – is Red coming, or are you fucking with me?" Seto all but splutters.

"I'm Red," Jounouchi sighs casually, as if he's talking about the weather. He picks at his cuticle, glances at his watch. Seto is floored, but maintains his composure. Perhaps not as floored as he thought he'd be. Perhaps he'd sort of known all along, or even more likely, he's not even surprised at Jounouchi ducking back into his life to antagonise him.

"Well. You might have told me earlier and saved me a lot of trouble," Seto retorts icily. He glances around the room, nervous that people have cottoned on to the fact that a horrible trick has been played on him. Nobody is paying attention.

"Whatever," Jounouchi says. "Go on then. Impress me."

Seto clears his throat slightly. He'll skip the sake and head right in for business, then. "I want to turn Speed Duelling into a mobile app. A freemium game."

Jounouchi looks at him for the first time this evening: an intense gaze that burns right through him. He swallows, taking a tiny, elegant sip of his water. He's never been this nervous during a business pitch. "We'll create a virtual world for the player. A kind of 'duel village'. The player would be able to purchase cards using coins, which can be earned or bought through the App Store or Play Store."

"I'm not interested," Jounouchi says simply, playing with a loose thread on his napkin.

"Well, I haven't finished," Seto replies, indignant. "You would get a share of 33 and a third percent."

"Why should I sell to you? Speed Duelling isn't for corporations, it's for people."

Seto flexes his fingers under the table, ready to throttle Jounouchi if he weren't in public. "This kind of a share being offered to a business amateur is unheard of, Jounouchi-san," Seto says, trying to hush his strident tone. "I am prepared to give you a full third of the shares of this venture, which, given the intensive statistical analysis I've run through, is slated to be top-charted in both the App Store _and_ the Play Store. You would never have to work a day in your life again."

"Eat my fucking dick, I'm not going to sell to you. Give. The fuck. Up," Jounouchi replies, sullen, through gritted teeth.

"You're fucking insane," Seto all but growls. "You're going to regret this for the rest of your life–"

"Why didn't you fucking say goodbye, you prick?" Jounouchi interjects, with a strange and ireful look in his eye. In the low lighting of the sake house, Seto could maybe swear that he's tearful. The statement is like a metaphorical slap in the face, and he can't help but stare back, his lips parted in surprise.

He's not sure what emotions are swirling within him right now, but he knows they're all negative, and he isn't prepared to deal with them. It's a low blow for Jounouchi to go for his jugular, but he should know better than to think that wasn't fair game. In a fight between them, there are no rules except for one: knock the other out by any means necessary. He stands from the table wordlessly, dropping his napkin messily on the tabletop, and walks out. He's unwilling to continue a childish conversation that veers from the course of business.

He's expecting the air to hit him with a cold burst when he exits the sake house, but it's only balmy – unthematically warm and lovely for the aura of the situation. The sun's only just setting, and he squints to look towards it; he's angry, everything hurts, but he doesn't know how to address those inaccessible and repressed negative feelings.

Jounouchi finds him outside, red-cheeked and eyes ablaze with something Seto can't identify. "Hey," he says, stridently. "What the fuck."

"What," Seto responds flatly.

"Why the fuck didn't you say goodbye to me?" Jounouchi asks again, but this time, it's sad, very nearly plaintive in how gently it's phrased.

Seto doesn't want to say anything. He is deeply uncomfortable. He shrugs.

"Fucking tell me, asshole," Jounouchi pleads – and it is pleading at this point. Seto shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to swallow down the growing lump in his throat.

"I – I already have a difficult time talking to people one on one," Seto mumbles, staring at the setting sun. "You know that. And I... I wasn't ready to explain – _us_ , to the press. I'm still not. I never was."

Jounouchi stares at him, and by the glassiness of his eyes, he's tearful. Seto doesn't know how to feel about this.

"I still love you, dumbass," Jounouchi starts, and as if Seto's impulse control has flown out the window, he leans over to kiss him, on instinct. Jounouchi's shoulders stiffen in surprise but he leans into it almost immediately, and the bony, obviously-moisturised hands in Seto's hair are familiar, melancholic and heart-wrenching. He's not drunk, he's not hiding, he's not sneaking around, he's not in school – he is kissing Jounouchi Katsuya, in public. He loves it.

Jounouchi is the one who pulls back, and Seto grips at his wrists, feeling – longing, maybe? It's an emotion he's only ever experienced whilst pissed. "I'll listen to your terms," Jounouchi says, quietly enough for only Seto to hear, "but they have to be fair. And if you're serious about this, about us, tell me now. Because I don't want to keep guessing, like I used to. I'm fucking sick of questioning every move, every look, every kiss, every fuck. I need to know you're either in this or you're not."

Seto can't cry, from years of training, but if he could, he would be right now. Something forceful, beyond his control, is ripping his throat in two, emotions coming in waves over him. He nods, unable to say anything. He needs this. He wants this. He needs, and wants, Jounouchi.

Jounouchi takes his hand as they head back inside – it's sweaty, but Jou doesn't even seem to mind.


End file.
